


The Heart Beats Hard

by plutosrose



Series: Stucky Bingo 2020 [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Detective Steve Rogers, Inspired by Money heist, M/M, Past James Barnes/Alexander Pierce, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, murder investigation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutosrose/pseuds/plutosrose
Summary: “Your husband made a substantial amount of money after the robbery,” Steve said, flipping through his notebook. However, he didn’t miss the way that Bucky’s nose wrinkled when he said ‘husband.’ “Are you certain that he didn’t have any enemies?”Bucky snorted and put his wine glass down. “I didn’t say he didn’t have enemies. I said I didn’t know who would want to kill him--and that’s true, I don’t know. Because everyone probably did. Hell, I wish that I had.”-After the mysterious death of the Bank of New York City's President and CEO Alexander Pierce, Steve comes face-to-face with his equally enigmatic husband.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: Stucky Bingo 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830826
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55
Collections: Stucky Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Alexander Pierce, President and CEO of the Bank of New York City, found dead in his office**

_Alexander Pierce, the President and CEO of the Bank of New York City, was found dead in his office last night from a gunshot wound to the head. The NYPD have released few details surrounding the CEO’s death, but have said that they are continuing to investigate the case._

_Pierce, a graduate of Harvard Business School, spent his entire 40 year career working at the Bank of New York City, becoming the CEO eleven years ago. His tenure is most notable for a major robbery that occurred three years ago, where the bank lost approximately $15 million. After a whistleblower at the bank reported to the NYPD that Pierce had allegedly provided the robbers with blueprints of the bank, he was involved in a lengthy legal battle with the NYPD, before he was eventually cleared._

_Pierce is survived by James Barnes, his husband of three years._

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, huh?” Sam asked when he set the newspaper down on Steve’s desk. “The robbery is just one thing that this asshole was probably involved in. Pierce makes those fuckers who were trapping people in subprime loans they couldn’t pay off during the Recession look like humanitarians.” 

“Yeah, I’m familiar,” Steve said, his jaw clenching. Both with the scale of financial fuckery that had happened during the Great Recession and with the robbery itself. While he hadn’t been a part of the team that had directly handled the investigation related to the robbery, although he remembered the long, sleepless nights that Sharon had suffered through at the tail end of their relationship. “He escaped prison by the skin of his teeth because of some high-priced attorneys he had.” 

It was one of the many times that Steve had actively questioned what he was doing in this job. Some small timers-- Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins, and Jasper Sitwell had all been arrested and were in prison in connection with the robbery--but Pierce? Pierce had been able to get off scot free, living the same New York City-charmed life that they’d been living before they were almost sent to prison. 

He frowned down at the picture of Pierce and his husband, walking together through Central Park. “Can’t say that I feel bad for him.” 

Sam put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and frowned. “Lucky we don’t have to deal with that case. Can you imagine?” he started, before Fury burst out of his office and dropped a file between the two of them.

“Wilson, Rogers,” Fury gave a curt nod to them both, before his gaze wandered over to the paper on Steve’s desk. “I see that you’ve already seen the case that you’re going to be working on.” 

Steve made a face. “Shouldn’t something like this get sent over to homicide? Detective Wilson and I are both in Major Cases--I don’t see why this should be our case.” 

Fury clenched his jaw the same way that he had earlier that week when a new detective had come to his office about mislabelled evidence. “I spoke to Hill this morning, and she agreed that there are certain elements of this case that make it a better fit for Major Cases.”

“So basically, you want to see if we can pin the Bank of New York City robbery on Pierce and also find his murderer at the same time,” Sam said, reaching over to leaf through the file. 

“That’s the idea,” Fury said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “We going to be getting any overtime for this?” 

The tight line in Fury’s jaw grew impossibly tighter. “I don’t know, Detective. I believe that you’re going to have to take that up with payroll.” 

Sam, for his part, did not look totally satisfied with that answer. 

“Is this what we have so far?” Steve asked. Fury nodded. 

“Mayor always hated the guy, but he’s on my ass to figure out this case.”

“Which means that the mayor is actually on our ass,” Sam said, and Steve hummed appreciably. 

Fury looked unimpressed with both of them and let out a long sigh. “Just do your damn jobs.” 

Both Sam and Steve nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

As Fury headed back to his office, Steve took the file from Sam and started going through the documents inside. 

“Do you think we’re going to be able to find anything tying Pierce to the Bank of New York City robbery?” Steve asked, lingering on Pierce’s testimony from the day of the robbery. He’d seen it before, tucked in Sharon’s briefcase. The idea that he and Sam might be able to succeed where she’d failed seemed, frankly, like Fury was setting them up to take the fall for an unsolvable case. 

“Don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “But the sooner we crack this thing…” 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. The sooner that they cracked the case, the sooner that he could forget that Alexander Pierce existed, the sooner he could stop being, in Sam’s words, ‘very sad and mopey about a relationship that ended eighteen months ago,’ and really, well, the sooner that he would be able to move on with his life completely. 

“Do you know anything about the husband?” Steve asked, studying a photo of Pierce and James Barnes together at the Met Gala two years earlier. It was a rare event for the two of them, one with a lot of external publicity. Steve frowned at the picture--he wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but in the days to come, it would be hard for him to get the picture out of his head. 

Sam shook his head. “When they got married, it was in the society pages, but since then, nothing. It’s weird. It’s like the guy’s a ghost. But, there’s always the chance that he might more than we think.” 

“You take Pierce’s office,” Steve said finally. “I’ll pay Barnes a visit.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam said with a nod. 

\- 

James Barnes lived at a very exclusive address on Park Avenue, with a doorman and a marble apartment lobby. It was the kind of place that made Steve think that if he’d shown up in casual, plain clothes, that he would have been turned away at the door, police officer’s badge be damned. 

A woman with sleek blonde hair that for a second reminds him of Sharon (until she gets a pinched and irritated look on her face), let him through to the elevator after he gave her his name and showed her his badge. 

He knew from the file that Fury had shown him and Sam that James Barnes lived in a penthouse apartment that was thought to be valued at approximately $40 million, though saying that Pierce’s tax records were a mess was an understatement. It was a wonder that the District Attorney had never nailed him for tax fraud. 

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he knocked on the door. A maid greeting him? A butler? 

Instead, there’s James Barnes, standing right in front of him, long dark hair falling out of a loose bun at the nape of his neck, wearing a deep blue silk robe with peonies and butterflies printed across it. 

Steve had never really been the sort of person to notice other people’s outfits, but it was inescapable in that moment, because he was fairly confident that James wasn’t wearing anything underneath, confidence that only grew when he looked down to his chest. 

Steve stared at him for a beat. A blush crept across his features. 

James’s lips curved into a smile. “Yes?”

Steve fumbled for his badge, his heart racing suddenly, before he thrust it in front of James. “I”m Detective Steve Rogers from the NYPD--I have a few questions about your husband.” 

At the mention of his husband--and definitely the sight of the badge--James raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had reporters calling all morning. You’re not a reporter, right?”

“No sir,” Steve said crisply. “You can check my badge number if you want to confirm.”

James studied him for a moment, before he opened the door a little wider, and waved over his shoulder for Steve to follow. 

Steve had only met James a few seconds ago, but looking around the apartment, he couldn’t imagine James living in a place like this. The furniture was no doubt, expensive, but also looked heavy and bulky. The living room was dark and had wood paneling that made him feel like the walls were closing in on him. 

“Please sit,” James said, gesturing at the arm chairs by the large windows. When Steve sat down, the chair creaked underneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit nervous that he might break a chair at a person of interest’s house that cost more money than he could ever hope to make in his life. 

“James,” he began, before Bucky shook his head. 

"Bucky, please."

"Bucky, then."

“I want to offer my condolences on the death of your husband, but I also had a few questions that I was hoping you’d be able to help me with. Did your husband have any enemies?” 

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed to himself. “I can’t think of who would want to kill him, to be honest.” 

Bucky was loose-limbed, yet graceful in the way that he flitted through the apartment, selecting a bottle of red wine from behind a glass cabinet. He didn’t seem overly sad about his husband’s sudden death, though, as Steve reminded himself, thinking of his mother’s sudden passing for a moment, no two people processed grief the same way. It was always possible that he was missing something. 

Steve watched him uncork it and pour it into a crystal decanter. He couldn’t decide if Bucky was completely unbothered by his presence, or if this was a performance that had been calculated for his benefit. 

Bucky poured a glass of wine, before offering it to Steve, when Steve shook his head, he shrugged and took a sip of it himself as he settled into the plush armchair across from him. 

“Your husband made a substantial amount of money after the robbery,” Steve said, flipping through his notebook. However, he didn’t miss the way that Bucky’s nose wrinkled when he said ‘husband.’ “Are you certain that he didn’t have any enemies?”

Bucky snorted and put his wine glass down. “I didn’t say he didn’t have enemies. I said I didn’t know who would want to kill him--and that’s true, I don’t know. Because everyone probably did. Hell, I wish that I had.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Can you describe the nature of your relationship?” 

Bucky smiled a cruel little smile that Steve couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or not. “The nature of our relationship.”

“Yes.”

“He was a prick.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“Were you not listening or something when I said that I wished that I had been the one to kill him?” 

Steve’s eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows impossibly higher. “You are aware of…” He trailed off, “the fact that I’m with the NYPD, right?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow right back at him, before he leaned in to pick up his glass of wine and raised it to his lips. “I didn’t kill him.” 

“But you wanted to.”

Bucky shrugged. Steve watched as Bucky crossed and uncrossed his legs, deep in thought. “I didn’t love him.”

Before Steve was able to stop himself, he said, “I gathered that from you saying that you wished you had killed him.” 

Bucky suddenly looked flighty, tense. Steve watched him intently while Bucky seemed to be doing his best to try and avoid his gaze entirely. 

“I think you should go,” Bucky said suddenly. Steve didn’t move. Instead, he studied Bucky’s expression, the way that his brow furrowed together--and his body language--the way that he continued to tap his fingers against the arm of the chair he was sitting in, looking both impatient...and maybe nervous. 

What could he be nervous about? 

Steve sighed and nodded as he got up. He was about to head to the door when he fished a business card out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of Bucky. “If you want to talk, just call that number. Day or night, I’ll pick up.” 

Bucky made a face as he gingerly picked up the business card off the table. “That what you do when someone asks you to leave, Detective? Give them your phone number?” 

Steve pursed his lips. “Just call if you need something, Mr…”

He paused, and Bucky looked at him expectantly. He was fairly sure that Bucky was mocking him, judging by the glint in his eyes, but the last thing that he wanted to do was spend more time in this giant apartment, with Bucky circling him like a predator.

“Barnes,” Bucky said finally, grinning too wide and too toothy for Steve to be able to interpret the expression as friendly. “Bucky Barnes.”

Steve smiled tightly and nodded. “Call me if you need anything or think of anything important.”

As Steve turned to leave, he felt Bucky watching him.


	2. Chapter 2

“All he basically told me was that he wished that he’d killed his husband, and then he told me he wanted me to leave. I swear to God Sam, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that he was trying to implicate himself in Pierce’s death.”

Steve and Sam had come to this bar every Friday for the past year. Sam had given him six months after he and Sharon had broken up to use the ‘I’m working,” excuse before he had practically dragged him out of the precinct late one Friday night by his ear. 

“I thought we agreed that nobody talks shop on Friday night,” Sam said, waving his beer around as if to prove his point. “Besides, we already went over this. Pierce’s secretary said that nobody met with him that day, and the husband was practically naked when you met him and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.”

Steve turned bright red and shook his head. “That wasn’t the point that I was trying to make--”

Sam gave him a hard, disbelieving look. “Oh? And what was the point that you were trying to make, Detective?” 

Steve made a face. “I’m just saying, we don’t know the full extent of what’s going on--”

“--it’s a murder investigation, of course we don’t know the full extent of what’s going on,” Sam sighed, before he reached over and patted Steve on the shoulder. “For once in your life, can you leave work at the office for a couple of hours? I promise it won’t kill you.”

“Promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Steve snorted. “You were never a Boy Scout.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So? That doesn’t make me any less right.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

Steve took a long sip of his beer, and then promptly almost choked, because there was Sharon Carter, making her way through the crowd around the bar and over to where the two of them were leaning against a tall table. 

Steve, very inelegantly, reached over and elbowed Sam in the ribs. 

“Ow! Can you not act like you’re 12 for about two seconds?” 

“I am not--” Steve started, before Sharon was standing right in front of them, smiling politely. “Sharon! Nice to see you.” 

“I heard that you’re on the Pierce murder,” Sharon said. 

“Yeah. Gossip travels fast,” Steve said stiffly, taking a long sip of his beer. 

Sam gave him a sideways glance, before he clapped him on the back. “I think I see Maria, I’m going to go say hi.” Before Steve could protest and say that he definitely did not see Maria, Sam was making his way through the crowd of people to the opposite side of the bar.

Sharon raised her eyebrows and took a long sip of her beer. “If you have something that you want to say, you should just say it.” 

Sharon let out a little laugh and shrugged. “I just feel bad, that’s all. It’s a nasty case.” 

She didn’t have to tell him that--he’d spent less than a week on the case and he already had the feeling that there was a lot more that Bucky wasn’t telling him. “Did you meet the husband when you worked on the case?” 

Sharon pursed her lips--the same way that she did when she was trying to avoid an unpleasant subject. Steve hated the fact that so many months had passed and he still remembered that detail. 

Sharon shook her head. “We tried, but Pierce’s lawyers made it such a hassle that we weren’t able to get him to come in. Kept telling us that talking to him would probably traumatize him.”

Steve thought back to the almost predatory grin that he’d seen on Bucky’s face earlier that week, and frowned. Something about that didn’t add up. 

“Why?” Sharon asked.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know, I guess...talking to him I felt like something was kind of...off. He wasn’t really hiding the fact that he seemed to hate Pierce. Actually was saying a lot…”

He paused for a moment. Sharon raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say that it was pretty clear that he didn’t like Pierce, and he...might have also been in shock.” That was the easiest explanation for how Bucky had been acting in their interview. 

Sharon shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely possible that he’s still in shock over his husband’s death. I would be if I was in his position.” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t…” Steve trailed off, pursing his lips as he remembered the way that Bucky had professed that he would have liked to have been the one to kill Pierce. That definitely seemed at least a little bit incriminating. “I don’t know, I just thought that it was kind of weird.”

Sharon gave him a gentle smile. “Steve, if there’s something up with this case, I think that you’re going to be the man to find out what’s going on. You’re a good detective, you know that, right?”

As petulant as he wanted to be sometimes where Sharon was concerned, she made it difficult by being so nice and reasonable. He nodded and took another sip of his beer as he tried to think of something semi-intelligent and not embarrassing to say (he really should have rehearsed this with Sam). 

Just then, Steve’s phone started buzzing. He didn’t immediately recognize the number, but in the middle of an active investigation, he knew better than to let anything go to voicemail.

“Steve...Stevie…”

There was no mistaking the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Mr. Barnes? Bucky?”

Bucky was silent for a long time on the other end of the line--so long, in fact, that Steve was pretty certain that he’d dialed his number by accident, before he heard Bucky _giggling_. Giggling to himself on the line.

“Bucky? Are you alright?”

More silence followed, before he heard--a clearly very drunk Bucky--slur out, “He’s dead.” 

Before hanging up completely. 

Steve frowned. “I gotta go, I--” 

Sharon pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, of course. I know. Gotta do what you gotta do. That’s the nature of the job.” 

Steve nodded and sent a quick text to Sam. “Thanks, I--” he started, before Sharon gave him a little smile and shook her head.

“Go do your job, Steve.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, okay, uh...good to see you.” 

Sharon smiled a little wider and more affectionately. “Good to see you, Steve.” 

-

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he arrived at the penthouse, but he definitely hadn’t expected the door to already be open. Frowning to himself, he opened it. “Bucky? Are you alright? You sounded a little--”

His eyes fell on Bucky, who was lounging on a velvet couch that Steve had a feeling was worth as much as his rent, wearing a different, but probably equally as expensive silk robe as he had the first time that he’d met him. 

Then, he immediately looked away, because he’d caught a glimpse of Bucky’s upper thighs and his balls.

“Bucky, are you alright?” he repeated, taking a few steps closer. 

He only looked back at him when he got up off the couch, staggering toward him, until Bucky was close enough to wrap his fingers in his shirt and breathe against his neck. 

Bucky swayed in his grasp, before he broke into a grin. “He’s dead,” Bucky murmured into his neck. “He’s dead.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said, which prompted Bucky to snap his head up and look at him, a too-wide grin on his face. “Bucky, why did you call me tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky murmured, pressing his fingers to his temples. “I don’t know…”

“Bucky…”

“Well, I don’t!”

Bucky had snapped at him so forcefully that Steve felt like something had physically pushed him back. 

Steve frowned. “Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, if you don’t know why you called me, that’s...okay.” He held Bucky firmly, resisting the urge to reach out and give him a more familiar hug. 

Bucky’s face crumpled, and in one heart-pounding moment, Steve thought that he was about to cry. Instead, his face broke into another too-wide grin, and he laughed, long and cruel, and insistent, until he was practically red in the face and gasping for breath. 

Steve didn’t dare let him go.

“He’s dead,” Bucky murmured into his neck again. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead.”

“Okay,” Steve murmured. “It’s getting late, maybe we should just get you to bed.” 

Steve practically dragged Bucky to his bedroom, propping Bucky up in a nearby armchair while he turned down the bed. “C’mon, in you go,” he murmured, pulling him bodily into bed. 

Once Bucky was actually in bed, Steve knew that there wasn’t a chance that he was leaving there that night. Bucky was clearly very, very drunk, and surprisingly enough, someone with Pierce’s, or well, Bucky’s, money, didn’t have servants. There wasn’t anyone to watch him and make sure that he was going to be okay.

He’d managed to prop Bucky up on his side with the numerous pillows in the bed, and then sank down in the arm chair next to it, letting out a breath. 

“You going to watch me all night, Detective?” He looked up to see Bucky lazily smiling at him. 

Steve shook his head. “Well, you have someone you can call that can come and watch you instead?” 

Bucky snorted. “I haven’t talked to my sister in three years. I don’t think she’s going to come if a police detective calls and tells her that her big brother is really drunk.” 

It felt like his heart clenched in his chest. “Okay, so if there’s no one that you can call, I’ll just stay….okay?”

Bucky grinned and settled against the mass of pillows on his bed. “I like that idea. A handsome detective watching me sleep.” 

Steve frowned and leaned back in the chair. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”

Bucky chuckled a little into the pillows, but it wasn’t long before he nodded off to sleep.

Steve let out a sigh. There was no chance that he was going to be able to sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> The Heart Beats Hard (Chapter 1)  
> Creator(s): plutosrose  
> Card number: 012  
> Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987721/chapters/73829079  
> Square filled: E4, Detective AU  
> Rating: E  
> Archive warnings: Rape/Noncon  
> Major tags: Past Rape/Noncon, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Murder Investigation, Detective Steve Rogers  
> Summary:
> 
> “Your husband made a substantial amount of money after the robbery,” Steve said, flipping through his notebook. However, he didn’t miss the way that Bucky’s nose wrinkled when he said ‘husband.’ “Are you certain that he didn’t have any enemies?”
> 
> Bucky snorted and put his wine glass down. “I didn’t say he didn’t have enemies. I said I didn’t know who would want to kill him--and that’s true, I don’t know. Because everyone probably did. Hell, I wish that I had.” 
> 
> -
> 
> After the mysterious death of the Bank of New York City's President and CEO Alexander Pierce, Steve comes face-to-face with his equally enigmatic husband.
> 
> Word count: 2,212


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